


To all the generals and their bastard sons

by apolitecactus



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Bisexual Character, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Sexism, Pining, Romance, Secret Relationship, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 07:15:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26349202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apolitecactus/pseuds/apolitecactus
Summary: Havoc was always into both men and women, however, he never pursued guys before, as it was simply easier to date girls rather than trying to figure out if the specific guys he liked were also into men. At least, it was that way until he saw that soldier confidently singing obscene songs on a gathering where there was supposed to be a whole living breathing colonel.Rating for swearwords and sexual references
Relationships: Jean Havoc/Roy Mustang
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	To all the generals and their bastard sons

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not a native speaker and would be happy for any feedback on my writing. Thank you for reading this :)

It all started with an obscene song.

Havoc remembered that distant evening like it happened just yesterday. There he was, on his first day after being transferred to East city, on a party Breda invited him over, listening to a drunk soldier singing a song filled with various expletives and detailed descriptions of what happened to that poor soldier the song was about. The refrain suggested all the “generals and their bastard sons” to “fuck off” repeatedly. The way the soldier sang it fit the song perfectly. Loud, over-the-top and with unnecessary high notes at the end of each refrain.

When the next song started – an equally obscene song about condoms; the song that could be used for sex education if it didn’t have all those expletives and those colourful descriptions of how one could put a condom on one’s head – he already knew from the way his heart was beating that he pretty much liked that drunk soldier. He couldn’t even place what exactly he liked. Not the drunkenness, certainly. More the way the soldier was holding himself, with an aura of an easy confidence, with a challenge in his gaze. The very fact that he was singing those profanities on the gathering, where, according to Breda, there was supposed to be a whole living breathing _colonel_ , was something that Havoc _liked_.

As in “liked” liked.

He knew from very early on that he was both into girls and boys. It was just a simple fact about his persona, however, a fact, he never actually acted upon. He liked the only delivery guy in his small town but he liked that guy’s sister too. He liked that curly-haired girl – a shopkeeper in the bakery in his town, but he was also into that guy in glasses who always bought exactly five loaves of bread in the mornings. It was easier to only pursue girls, to act as if only girls interested him, rather than to try to find out if the specific guys he liked also preferred men. Besides, he couldn’t even imagine telling about his preferences to his mother and even beyond that, try to explain to her that no, he wasn’t influenced by his friends in Central or those fancy magazines with _photos_ in them , no, he simply was like that, from the very day he started feeling anything sexual at all.

Anyway, he was pretty sure that he wouldn’t act on whatever he felt towards that soldier from the gathering either, and he’d find a nice girl whom he’d “like” like the way he liked that soldier… The next day, at the parade, he became even more sure of it, since the said soldier _was_ the colonel everyone was talking about.

The revelation was quite a stupid moment for Havoc because for the life of it, he couldn’t imagine a _colonel_ of all people singing those songs. There were people on that gathering that colonel certainly never met before – like Havoc – and singing such songs about the government and generals, hell – even being drunk – was something that a person of such rank could be easily reported for…

That was the moment when he liked that colonel even more. Therefore, when the colonel walked past him, he smiled with one of his dumb wide smiles, and, to his surprise, received a barely recognizable nod in response.

His feelings got stronger and even more unbearable when he started working at the office of the colonel Roy Mustang. All the over-the-top things that Mustang did, somehow, only strengthened his stupid feelings. He liked the way Mustang talked about becoming the next Fuhrer – just like he sang those songs on that distant evening, with confidence, without any consideration of who may hear him and what consequences it would bring him. Maybe that was why Havoc started pursuing girls more aggressively. He felt something very similar towards girls before – he simply had to find the one whom he’d like as much as that colonel, and everything would be fine.

Though the very colonel whom he liked pretty much hindered his future-wife-and-mother-of-his-five-children seeking efforts. By, well, pursuing the girls he liked or even dating _his_ girlfriend.

When he learned that Anastasia went on a date with Mustang, he was furious. If he had a little shrine with Mustang’s face over it (which he didn’t, despite his craving to preserve that one newspaper with Mustang’s photo in it), he’d destroy it and put small pricky needles in the little doll with Mustang’s face on it. Instead, he had to sit in the office, next to Mustang and write those stupid reports that were long overdue because, apparently, the said Mustang was designing mini-skirt uniforms instead of working on his reports.

His annoyance must have shown on his face because Mustang stopped writing his own report and looked at Havoc.

“What?” he asked in the lazy tone his voice acquired when he was working.

“Just… Anastasia – you knew that she was my girlfriend, Sir. That’s not how guys act with each other, you know?” Havoc said and, internally, he once again imagined destroying that non-existing shrine with Mustang’s face all over it and felt satisfied at the thought of it.

“Oh, she said you seemed uninterested on your only date, though she said the same thing about me,” Mustang answered, sounding totally not concerned.

“Uninterested?! Uninterested? I offered her to meet my mum fifteen minutes in! And, you also dated Stefanie.”

“Stefanie? With the ponytails?” Mustang shrugged. “Were you dating her too?”

“No, but I liked her and you had to know it! I was talking about it all the time then. And I’m not even talking about Anjelica. I was just going over there with flowers, and you…”

“Huh, I may as well date you at this point,” Mustang said flatly, as if he was discussing weather or stock market options.

Havoc though felt his cheeks getting hot and his heart beating so fast that he was hearing it right in his ears.

Stupid Mustang. How dare he date his girls and be so fucking handsome and confident and suggest them to date _jokingly_? Couldn’t he see the effect that he had on Havoc? Didn’t he see that Havoc wanted to spend just a little bit more time in his presence? Even now, after what happened with Anastasia, he volunteered for that _nice_ evening overtime. Didn’t he see the way Havoc looked at him sometimes? Didn’t he see how awkward Havoc became in his presence? Havoc knew that he was bad at concealing his emotions, and besides, even Breda noticed – thank God nothing more aside from some teasing came out of it – but surely, Mustang had to notice, and he probably simply played with him now, in the same over-confident way he was talking about generals or his stupid decrees that he’d introduce when he’d be a Fuhrer.

Havoc wanted to leave the room right away and do something angry at that, such as slam the door closed, but then he saw that Mustang stopped writing and looked straight at him, as if expecting the answer. Even more so, Mustang _blushed_ too, and Havoc was sure that Mustang of all people was never the one to _blush_.

His mouth dried all at once, his heart started beating even faster, and he was sweating profusely but still, ha managed to say a very quiet: “Yes, you may as well date me, Sir.”

-/

“I knew it!” Mustang said, while methodically going through every corner of the room at that cheap motel he booked a few days later. The day before that he simply asked Havoc if he wanted a date, and then Havoc received a small note with the address of that motel.

Mustang looked under the beds and behind curtains and even at the ceiling too. “I’m good at reading people, after all,” he bragged, now opening the drawers.

Havoc felt uncomfortable all at once, now knowing that Mustang was aware of those feelings. He also didn’t know what kind of plan Mustang had – did he want an one-night stand? Some sexual variety in his life? Did he simply like the fact that he was adored by one of his underlings? Havoc itched to ask all those questions, but he didn’t.

“Did you lose something there, Sir?” Havoc said instead.

Mustang shook his head.

“Just in case there’s a wire. Have to be careful.”

Mustang also closed all the curtains, closed the door and put a chair in front of it. All of it started to look more like waiting for an ambush than a date.

For a second, Havoc thought that maybe, Mustang was some kind of a maniac who’d lure unsuspecting victims by being their obscenely handsome commander and dating their girlfriends, but he forgot about that thought when Mustang took a bottle of wine and two glasses from his backpack.

“Sorry about that,” Mustang said, not looking at him. “Just… All the previous Fuhrers had a wife and at least one child. I checked.” He sighed heavily.

Havoc learned many other facts about previous Fuhrers that day.

That their wives were most likely from the East or the South, never worked in their life, and were praised in the newspapers for their devotion to their husbands.

That those wives most likely had cute little dogs that you could carry in a purse, but never – cats.

That there were usually two or three children in Fuhrer’s families – more boys than girls, and the boys went on to the military academies, and the daughters most likely studied creative arts at fancy universities and often became next Fuhrer’s wives.

That those children most likely had blue eyes and blond hair and all looked like they belonged to the Armstrong family.

“I’m from the East,” Havoc said, comfortably settling himself on Mustang’s chest, drunk from the wine and the fact that he had a _date_ with Mustang. “And my children could be blond and with blue eyes, couldn’t they?”

Mustang laughed bitterly.

“And you’d be devoted to your husband, right?”

“Yes, of course, I would if the said husband stops stealing my girlfriends.”

That time they laughed in unison, feeling strange sort of kinship forming between them and, also, both feeling the bitterness that started soaking in that relationship so early on.

-/

Secretly dating Mustang was… tiring.

The euphoric feeling that he had initially wore off, and then he was more focused on all the imperfections of the way they were dating.

On the smell in the motel rooms – always the same one, of the flowery disinfectant and old bed sheets. On the way Mustang told him about those dates – all in the same small notes, written in more complicated codes in every new one. On the way Mustang refused to even look at him now during the work hours and became distant and professional with him, whereas before, he was straight-out talking about all those Fuhrership plans and other stupid things all the time in front of Havoc. On the fact that Mustang was still dating women to “save his face” (a small part of Havoc told him that Mustang dated women because he also was like Havoc – into men and women, and he liked women more than he liked men, and he had Havoc just as a little pet to use with a simple goal of being adored, and he didn’t really care for Havoc – like no one ever did in Havoc’s life – but Havoc tried not to think too much about it).

There were more fights in their less frequent dates now and angry sex after those fights, now less satisfying too, after the initial feeling of novelty wore off too. The mornings after, they both were angry and sleepy, and then Mustang would get even more worried that someone could have noticed and make _conclusions_ , and his Fuhrership plans would be over.

They ended their relationship in the same way they started it. On a rainy evening, in a cheap motel room, somewhere in the outskirts of East-city, both drunk from the cheap wine Havoc picked up on the way there. After that, neither of them could remember who dumped whom.

Havoc suspected though that it was he who broke up with Mustang. In his opinion, the talk went something like that: they were sitting facing each other, their foreheads touching, both sweaty after yet another of their long arguments and angry fucks, and Havoc simply said that it was all over.

“What do you mean?” Mustang answered and, for a second, Havoc thought that he saw fear in those dark eyes.

“Over… We won’t make it. You want the Fuhrership, and I’m sick of those motels. I can’t even look at you now without thinking of the next motel where we’ll fuck.”

Mustang didn’t look at him for a long time. Then, he finally spoke: “Over right now or after this date?” and there was a barely concealed hope in that voice.

Havoc decided that after that date, so Mustang hugged him in response and there was something sad and desperate in that embrace, and – that one he attributed to his own drunkenness at that moment – he may also have seen tears in the corners of Mustang’s eyes. He probably didn’t because the next day, Mustang already had a date and he was talking about that girl so openly right in the office, that Havoc felt furious at the fact that he was still not over Mustang, whereas Mustang clearly was so over him.

-/

After the fight with Lust, Havoc received a standard set of “never give up” speeches from all his friends, including Mustang. Well, there wasn’t a way for him not to give up now, when he couldn’t feel his stupid useless legs anymore.

Mustang appeared at his hospital room once again, right before Havoc was about to leave Central. There were dark rings underneath Mustang’s eyes and all about Mustang screamed that he spent the last days fighting or researching and doing God knows what and where. The words that came out of his mouth though were entirely unexpected.

“Can we start over please? If you agree, we won’t be so secret anymore.”

“What?” Havoc shook his head, thought over it and repeated in an even more confused tone. “What?”

“I…” Mustang sighed. “I’m sorry for the way I treated you. You didn’t deserve it. So, can we start over?”

Havoc looked closely and it seemed like Mustang was afraid of hearing a negative answer.

“The Fuhrer is a homunculus, Jean,” Mustang continued, still for whatever reason trying to _persuade_ him. “If he’s a homunculus, then his wife and child are all bullshit. I’m not sacrificing you for a _lie_ , Jean.”

For a second, his heart filled with a stupid hope that Mustang may actually feel the same way Havoc felt about him, and Mustang, actually, genuinely, wanted to date and was even ready to risk some of his ambitions for that to happen, but then, Havoc remembered that he just lost his legs and was about to retire and was deserving pity because of that, and the last he knew, secret long distance dating opportunities were quite limited in Amestris.

“Don’t worry, I’ll leave you a list of all the girls in Central I liked – for your _girlfriend-stealing efforts_ when I’m not around.” Havoc smiled, and then his smile sank when he saw a _lost_ expression on Mustang’s face.

Mustang looked like he wanted to say something else and his whole expression was sad and puppy-eyed – but then he schooled it into something more befitting of a colonel talking with his subordinate, said a few phrases about “getting well” and the obvious “not giving up” and left.

Havoc felt something tight in his chest too, like he was about to cry. He didn’t though. He was a good soldier, and good soldiers didn’t cry over not being able to date their commanding officers.

-/

The next time, he saw Mustang blind, in a hospital bed, with bandaged hands and still ready to go on his assignment in Ishval even blind. Thankfully, Marco restored his eyesight.

He had a moment alone with Mustang later in the evening.

“He healed you too, Jean,” Mustang said, smiling. “I was so happy that the first thing I saw was you walking.”

Then, Jean asked what he wanted to ask for such a long time.

“Is your offer of not-so-secret dating still on?”

Mustang raised an eyebrow and answered without missing a beat.

“Yes, or do you need a coupon for it? Or should I have made an ad in a…”

Havoc didn’t care for the rest of it, he hugged Mustang, desperately, feeling like he missed touching and kissing him all that time he was back home and his mother was nagging him about grandchildren and a wife… They sat next to each other after that, still hugging each other and discussing all those things they didn’t have a chance to discuss since his injury, and the curtain at the window was open and a nurse peeked inside and must have seen them, and he felt his heart exploding in happiness at all those little details of not-so-secretness of their relationship.

-/

“I knew it!” Ed shouted, appearing from somewhere in the bushes and victoriously holding a newspaper in his hands.

They were in that resort where he and Mustang were prescribed to go to heal, and they both happily went to, hoping for a nice holiday. However, everyone else in the team followed them too, citing something about their own health issues – though Havoc knew that they simply wanted to guard Mustang, considering that after his more pronounced bid for the Fuhrership, there were more people after him than ever before. Surprisingly, Elric brothers decided to join them too, in that case – because apparently pines in that resort for some reason were good for healing malnourishment.

Now they were sitting next to a campfire, Havoc comfortably leaning on Mustang’s shoulder, and everyone else from their little team – Breda, Fuery, Falman, and Hawkeye – were all comfortable with it and acted like it wasn’t weird that two people in their team were so openly dating. Mustang was singing one of his obscene songs, and that was when the Elric brothers appeared with that newspaper and juicy revelations.

“It’s all over the newspapers, Colonel,” Ed said, while Al looked totally embarrassed and sorry. “But I knew it even before that article, it was obvious.”

Mustang and Havoc looked at each other, and Havoc could see little drops of sweat on Mustang’s forehead (he didn’t like the vulnerability in Mustang’s gaze, but he couldn’t help it but think that he wanted to lick those little drops of sweat of his forehead that very moment).

“It’s fine, Havoc,” Mustang whispered then and took his hand in his. “Just a reason for us to be completely open now.” Even if he was smiling, there was apprehension in that voice.

“It’s true,” Mustang said louder, looking at Ed and holding Havoc’s hand a little bit more obviously. “And I’m not ashamed, whatever you think, _Fullmetal,_ ” the last word was practically hissed, and Havoc felt that the atmosphere changed to vile – and he himself hated that Ed apparently had such an opinion about relationships like theirs…

“Of course it’s true!” Ed said, grinning. “There’s a photo of _four_ of your _season tickets_ to Central ballet theatre and a copy from your alchemy notes all written in _horoscopes_! And I’m not even talking about the flute and ikebana.” Ed stopped and started giggling, whereas Al’s face went completely red.

Roy stood up, frowning.

“Are you insinuating, Fullmetal,” he said coldly and started looking in his pockets, and Havoc cheerfully remembered that he personally took away those gloves. “That it’s obvious that I date both men and women because I visit ballet and know ikebana? Is it what you’re trying to say?”

Ed's giggly expression disappeared from the same second. Havoc noticed that not only Mustang was furious – there was a frown on Hawkeye’s face, and she looked as if she wanted to _explain_ all of it to Ed herself, potentially using firearms.

“What? No, it’s not what I’m trying to say! I just knew that you were into stupid things like ballet and ikebana, that’s it, I didn’t mean that,” Ed gulped, looking uncomfortable, but then smiled. “I don’t care whom you date, they all have to be weirdos to choose _you_ of all billions people on Earth.”

Ed sat next to the campfire, followed by Al, who still looked very embarrassed. Roy sat back too, and possessively took Havoc’s hand in his, now looking at Ed as if challenging him.

An uneasy silence settled between all of them.

Then, Ed grinned.

“No, really, I didn’t mean anything like that – you can read the newspaper, this General Hakuro guy is saying that you’re not fit for the Fuhrership because you like ballet too much.” Ed threw the newspaper in the direction of Mustang.

Mustang caught it, and Havoc could see the article on one of the pages – ballet season tickets were in its title.

“It still doesn’t give you the right to call whomever I’m dating a weirdo,” Roy answered in the same cold tone, folding the newspaper and hiding it to somewhere in his inner pockets. “You should apologize to Havoc.”

“Yeah, sorry Lieutenant,” Ed said very fast, now looking directly at Havoc. There was the uneasy silence for a few long seconds but then Ed grinned once again and continued speaking, addressing Havoc. “Really, Lieutenant, you could have done better than Colonel. Isn’t army ninety seven percent men?”

“Brother!” Al said, now sounding really threatening.

“I don’t care about the relationships, all people are equal and it’s okay - simply choose whom you like, men or women, I don’t care,” Ed said, now folding his hands and looking at Mustang with the same challenge in his gaze. “But why would anyone date _Mustang_ of all people? Or someone with _a season ticket_ for ballet? And besides, I’m sorry for calling your dates weirdos, Colonel, but I know Havoc is not because he really tried – after all, he started dating you _after_ a homunculus.”

What followed was the largest alchemic fight in the century since the Promised day, and the newspapers were there in an hour to snatch the photos of Mustang and Ed fighting with each other in the middle of that nice resort with pines where they were both supposed to heal their injuries, not to get new ones. The next day’s “Central Sun” appeared with a headline along the lines of “Not only ballet lessons – Flame and Fullmetal invented pinewood alchemy”.

Havoc was stupidly grinning not because of having to witness the “pine-fight of the century”, as the newspapers were calling it. He was happy because when Roy saw that newspaper in Ed’s hands and thought that their secret was out, he was ready to admit it to everyone. He was also happy that now everyone in their little team knew about it, and they were all fine with their relationship, and no one tried to talk to him about finding a nice girl instead.

He knew that it wouldn’t be all rosy and clear for them in the future. They wouldn’t hold hands among the people whom they didn’t know, and they wouldn’t get to dance together or simply have a dinner at a café without pretending that it was not romantic. Mustang wouldn’t ever be willingly open about that relationship with strangers – he wouldn’t sacrifice his Fuhrership plans for it – but at least they wouldn’t have to meet at those dirty motel rooms ever again and at least they could be open in their little group of friends.

Mustang and Ed returned back several hours later, all in pine needles and tired.

“Can you sing that song, Roy?” he said, and Mustang agreed, despite his tiredness.

The campfire was hot, the song was even more obscene than the last time, and Havoc felt happier than ever because he was comfortably sitting next to Roy, with his head at Roy’s shoulder.

“All the generals and your bastard sons, fuck off!” they both sang in unison over and over again, and if the said generals saw them singing that song and sitting next to each other and being so intimate, now, Mustang would be able to face those generals and maybe even talk about that relationship openly, and if those generals wouldn’t find it befitting of a next Fuhrer, Hawkeye and Mustang would find some nice ways of persuading them otherwise.

**Author's Note:**

> • Heeey I'm really sorry for posting so many fics recently. To be honest, this fic came about as I was so angsty after a girl I liked some time ago jokingly suggested that we marry, and I'd tell her about the feelings that I had before if I wasn't dating someone else at the moment, and if she at least knew that I'm bisexual.
> 
> • I'm sorry for showing Ed this way. There were instances in the manga where he was all like "why would I drink tea with a guy" and there were instances of cross-dressing in the manga used for jokes, and, considering the manga is kind of told from Ed's POV, I think he could talk this way about ballet and ikebana (which I don't support of course).
> 
> • I wanted to have a happier ending for this fic, but then I realized that there couldn't be an ending where they openly date each other because the story is set at the beginning of the 20th century and Roy really wants to be a Fuhrer, and there are already enough obstacles against that.


End file.
